Dylan

“IT’S A NICE dream, but it doesn’t exactly work like that here,” I told Jake before stuffing the remainder of a tasty Cajun wrap into my mouth.

After Lakeview’s finest carted Wyatt off, we’d left the fairgrounds in search of decent food. I’d taken the crew to the Eagle’s Nest—a bar known for its friendly staff, good food, strong drinks, and a giant stuffed elk head. Since the moment we’d sat down, Jake had been trying to reassure me that Wyatt would see justice for what he’d done. Jake was a good cop, and he didn’t understand how we did things here.

“I’m sure it will. I’ll contact the local police chief Tuesday and—”

“I bet they didn’t take him in,” I said. “Probably didn’t even get out of the parking lot with him.”

“What makes you say that?” Asher asked.

“My dad has been picked up for drinking and driving, drunk and disorderly, public intoxication...just about every alcohol-related charge in the book, and he’s never been charged.”

Jake frowned. “I’m sure that’s wrong. There has to be something else going on.”

“Oh, there is. He’s related to most of the police force. The two cops who picked up Wyatt today...the redhead was my second cousin twice removed, Rex, and the brunette was my third cousin, Eric. Dad’s even related to the DA, and they’re close...as in family barbecues close.”

“Do you really think Wyatt cut the cinch?” Addison asked, playing with her straw.

Jake and I both nodded.

“Is this somehow related to your dad stealing the jewelry?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know how it could be.”

“But it could,” Asher interjected. “Dylan’s dad warned her to get out of town the night we ran into him.”

“He did?” Addison asked, watching me. “What did he say?”

“Something lame and ominous like ‘get out of this town before you find out what’s really going on.’ I’m sure he’s just trying to throw us off his scent.”

“I don’t know,” Asher said. “He seemed worried about you. Maybe something bigger is going on here.”

I wanted to argue, but couldn’t shake the feeling he was right. Addison obviously couldn’t either, because she was pulling a notepad and pen out of her purse. “Okay, so far we know Dylan’s dad is stealing the jewelry, Brandy put some of it back for some reason, and Wyatt tried to...uh...”—she looked at Jake—“do whatever Wyatt tried to do.”

I got, and appreciated, that Addison didn’t want to make any references to attempts on killing us in front of her still-pissed boyfriend.

“Now how is it connected?” Asher asked.

“No clue, but I feel like we should go back to the nursing home. That’s where this whole thing started, and we never did interview any of the nurses.”

* * *

I knew Brandy wouldn’t be working since we’d just kicked her butt in the Buddy Barrel Race, but she wasn’t the nurse I wanted to talk to anyway. Asher and Jake hung back while Addison and I approached the nurses’ station and asked to speak to Helen, the pill-slingin’ nurse my grandmother referred to as a Nazi.

“Helen’s not in,” Judy, the nurse on duty told us. “She doesn’t work here at the nursing home. She’s a private consultant who serves the board of directors.”

“She’s not a nurse here?” I asked.

Judy shook her head. “Nope. She just evaluates the clients and makes sure they’re comfortable and that their needs are being met.”

“She doesn’t give out medicine?” I asked.

“Nope.” Judy smiled.

I had no clue what to say. I’d seen Helen give both Grandma and Ms. Long pills. Pills that Grandma swore were poison. And now Ms. Long was dead. No, it had to be a coincidence. Maybe Judy was new and didn’t fully understand Helen’s role.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Judy asked.

“No, thanks. I think we’re just gonna step in and see my grandmother.”

Dad was in with her. He looked up when we came in. “Hey, sweetheart.”

I hated that nickname. I’d hated it growing up, and I hated it even more now that I knew my dad was stealing from old folks. Including his mother. Refusing to look at him, I greeted Grandma instead.

“That was a good ride today, kid,” Dad said to my back. “But you got lucky. You need to leave town and forget about this like I said.”

“Why?” Asher asked.

“And what do you know about the girth?” Jake added. “Were you a part of that?”

Dad held up his hands. “I saw what happened is all. Dylan knows town folk don’t like people from the city snooping around in our business.”

“She’s your daughter,” Asher growled. “You’re really not going to tell us what’s going on and keep her safe?”

Dad stood and shrugged. “Less she knows, the safer she’ll be. That goes for the rest of you, too.” He stumbled over to me. “Why don’t you come outside and talk to me, sweetheart?”

I couldn’t believe he’d even asked me that. “You mean man-to-man? So you can take a swing at me, too?” I asked.

“You know I’d never hit you,” he said.

I looked him in the eye and said, “No, but you’d stand by and let someone try to kill me and my best friend. And you’d embarrass me by trying to assault the man I’m going to marry.”

Addison sucked in a breath and her eyes went wide as silver dollars.

The minute the words were out of my mouth, I regretted saying them. Not because they weren’t true, but because Asher was in the room and he hadn’t technically asked me to marry him yet. But I wanted Dad to know exactly where I stood on the matter. Asher was my guy and when he popped the question, my answer would be, hell yes. And my father needed to deal with that.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to talk to my grandmother and then Addison and I are going to go solve this case so we can get out of this town.”

He held my gaze for a few moments more before he stumbled out the door.

Grandma patted my hand. “That’s my girl,” she whispered. Then she looked at the rest of the group and asked, “Now what are you all here to bother me about this time?”

* * *

Addison

“I can’t believe we have to wear this crap,” Dylan complained as she walked into my room.

I giggled. “I think it’s cute.”

We both wore skinny jeans and cowboy boots. I wore a blue bustier and purple cowboy hat, my tummy was bare, and I’d pulled my blonde hair in a side ponytail. Dylan had pigtail braids and wore a reddish-brown tank top and brown cowboy hat, but she wasn’t about to show any skin, so she’d tucked her top into her jeans.

Jake wrapped his arms around my waist. “I think it’s sexy as hell.”

I had to hold my hat on my head as he shoved his face into my neck and kissed me. I giggled and half-heartedly slapped his back.

Dylan leveled a stare at us. “We look like we just stepped off the set of Hee Haw.”

“Of what?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Can we just get this thing over with so we can go home?”

Dylan was feeling a little surly, and I couldn’t blame her. Jake had called the local police station and verified her fears that Wyatt was never even booked. They claimed lack of evidence to arrest him and asked Jake to remind us that we’d signed a waver not to hold the town or the fairgrounds liable for any injuries caused. We knew Dylan’s dad was stealing the jewelry and needed to turn our proof over to the local authorities, but Dylan would never roll over on Sergio even if she thought the video footage would convict her father. We knew there was something going on with Not-Nurse Helen, but we’d hit a dead end there too. We were both ready to cut our losses and head home.

“Two hours, love.” Asher pulled her close, kissing her gently. “Then you never have to come back.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

I watched the two of them, wondering what was going on. After Dylan’s announcement that she was going to marry Asher, I’d grilled her for details and came up confused. All she’d tell me was that there hadn’t been a proposal, but Asher had asked her father for his blessing. I needed to ask Asher—since he was usually easier to drag information out of—but had yet to get my brother alone.

We climbed into my car and headed to the station to “catch” the train. A parade route had been set up along the tracks and people were already starting to gather. The train would apparently circle around the town and return back for a potluck.

All the Roundup participants were in attendance, but only the winners would ride in the darling little red caboose. I don’t know where the town had gotten an eighteen-hundreds steam engine, but they’d done a wonderful job restoring it to its former glory, and I was kind of excited to join in. I didn’t tell Dylan that, however. Lest her head explode.

As we climbed up the stairs of the caboose, the mayor (with a little more excitement than should be legal) pinned a sheriff’s star on each of our chests as the crowd applauded and cameras flashed. I kept a smile plastered on my face throughout numerous photos that would be included in the tourism brochure the town would be producing.

Stepping inside the air-conditioned car, I was surprised to find it decked out in old-time décor. I felt like I should be wearing a hoop skirt instead of jeans.

We were offered what the locals called “champagne,” but I saw the bottle and knew it wasn’t the real stuff. Since I wasn’t a fan of sparkling wine, I declined.

Dylan, on the other hand, took a glass and downed it.

“You okay there, sunshine?” I asked.

“Peachy. My home town’s gone to shit and there’s nothing I can do about it. But I do have this shiny little sheriff’s badge now. You should have grabbed a glass so I could have yours, too.”

I went back to the server and got her another drink. She thanked me and downed that one as well.

I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know how you can drink that cheap crap.”

“If it keeps me from remembering the humiliation of this day, I’ll drink lighter fluid.”

I giggled. “Well, take it easy there, babe.”

As we mingled on our way to the snack area, Dylan and I were congratulated several times. It appeared the whole town had watched our race and would be talking about it for years.

By the time the sixth person stopped us—a hot cowboy named Trent—I could tell Dylan needed another glass of sparkling wine. She was fidgety and looking around. She stopped him midsentence and said, “Sorry, Trent, but have you seen Brandy?”

“You two aren’t gonna fight again are you?” he asked. “Because if you are, I want a front row seat.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but no. She’s taking great care of Dusty, and I wanted to congratulate her on winning the barrel racing.”

“Last I saw her, Dicky was leading her toward the cabins,” he said.

“Dicky...Dicky Jones?” Dylan asked.

I frowned. “Wait, that’s the DA, right?”

Trent nodded and leaned closer. “Yeah, rumor has it that kid of hers is his. Don’t let his old lady hear you say that, though. She has a nasty right hook. If you ladies will excuse me, I think I’m ready for another drink.”

Dylan grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the direction Trent had pointed, away from the party. We heard voices coming from one of the cabins, so we crept forward until we could tell where they were coming from.

Brandy and some man were having a heated discussion behind a door to the right. It wasn’t completely closed, and Dylan gave it a little nudge so we could better listen in.

“I told you to keep your mouth shut and mind your own goddamn business,” the man said.

“I wasn’t poking around,” Brandy defended.

“Then how did you find out about Helen?”

“Dylan came in asking about her while I was riding last night. She had questions about Helen giving out medicine. Dicky, are you having her dose the patients with something? She’s not even a nurse and—”

“This doesn’t sound like you minding your own business.”

“But why would you...is this what those life insurance forms were about?”

That was about all I needed to hear. I dragged Dylan away and pulled out my cell phone to call Jake.

While I waited for the call to go through I asked Dylan, “That was the DA, right?”

She nodded. “Yep. Same condescending tone and all.”

“Hey, baby. Havin’ fun?” Jake asked.

“Actually, I’m calling because I need you to look into something for me.”

“Sure. You okay?”

“Yes, we’re fine, honey. We’re in a crowded train car. But we overheard a conversation between Brandy and the DA...Dicky Jones. He confirmed that Helen has been giving the old people something and Brandy mentioned life insurance policies. I was watching this crime show the other day and they were talking about this exact thing. If he’s taking policies out on these people, there’s gotta be a paper trail.”

“Okay, baby, I’ll see what I can find out,” Jake promised. “You do not go anywhere alone with him, hear me?”

“We’re trapped on a train. How could we possibly go anywhere alone with him?” Rolling my eyes, I hung up and Dylan and I grabbed something to eat and continued to mingle.

The train made it out to Hunter’s Hot Springs and stopped long enough to watch the geyser go off before turning around to head back to town. I figured we were home free until Dylan grabbed my arm.

There was a dark-haired man—also wearing cheesy western wear complete with a vest, his age somewhere north of fifty, and his weight pushing three hundred pounds—slithering up to us.

“Ladies,” he crooned, and I recognized the voice from the back of the train. “Just the ladies I’d like to see. Congratulations on your win. And breakin’ the record. That’s quite an accomplishment.”

“Hey, Dicky,” Dylan said, confirming my fears. “How’s Melinda and the kids?”

“Good, good. We missed you at the last couple family reunions.”

“Yeah, I work a lot so I don’t get back here all that often.”

“Oh well, you’re home now, and I’d love to give you two a tour of our new train.”

“You know, I think we’re good,” Dylan replied. “I think we’re just gonna go get another drink.” She grabbed my hand and turned to leave.

“I insist,” Dicky replied. He had his hand on a big bulge beneath his vest. He gestured us toward the back door. “Don’t say anything. Just head to the back. I only want to talk to you.”

I walked beside Dylan, grateful I had my gun in my satchel, with Dicky behind us. He gestured at the doorknob.

“I think we need some fresh air,” he said. “Nice and slowly.”

Dylan opened the door and we went out.

“It would probably raise some suspicion if I shot you two on the train,” Dicky said. “No doubt I could handle it, but the cop and the lawyer might cause some waves that I don’t feel like dealing with. So why don’t you two make it easy on all of us and just jump off?”

“You’ve always been an asshole, Dicky,” Dylan said, leaning against the rail. “But killing old folks? That has to be a new low...even for you.”

“And you’ve always had your nose up in the air, thinkin’ you’re so much better than the rest of us.”

“So why are you doing it?” Dylan asked. “Let me guess...life insurance policies.”

Dicky’s eyes widened. “Brandy! That bitch—”

“Didn’t tell us anything. We figured it out, which means that cop and lawyer already know what’s going on.”

“Well, then I guess I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Dicky rushed Dylan, shoving her over the waist-high railing before either of us could react. Dylan let out a squeak and hooked an arm around the top metal bar. Dicky grabbed her wrist and started tugging her arm straight.

I opened my satchel, but before I could get to my gun, Dicky abandoned his fight with Dylan long enough to swat the whole thing out of my hand. It went flying off the back of the caboose. I gasped. “That was my favorite Burberry satchel, you asshole!”

He ignored me and went back to attacking Dylan, which really pissed me off. How dare he treat me like I wasn’t a threat.

“Hold on, Dylan!” I screamed, jumping on his back and wrapping my arms around his thick neck. Then I squeezed as tightly as I could. He flailed wildly, but I held on like he was Bucky turning a corner. When the flailing didn’t work, he smashed me against the back wall of the train. My head bashed into something hard. I could smell copper and my lungs felt like they were about to burst from the pressure of his body.

He went for another pass, and I knew I couldn’t take a hit like that again, so I released him and jumped out of the way. His momentum kept him at full speed and he slammed against the wall with a thud before toppling over.

I turned to help Dylan, but she now had both arms latched around the bars and was pulling herself up.

“I’m fine. Don’t turn your back on him!” she shouted, looking behind me.

Dicky was groping for his gun as he struggled to get to his knees. I kicked it out of his hand and plowed into him, knocking him backwards. Then I jumped on his stomach like he was one of those big exercise balls.

“You stupid son-of-a-bitch, you don’t try to kill my friend!” I said, slapping him across the face on each word.

As we pulled into the station, I heard Jake shouting my name, but I was busy.

“Dylan!” Asher bellowed, his voice filled with terror.

“I’m fine. I’ve totally got this,” Dylan said, swinging her leg over the rail. “You guys should probably save Dicky, though.”

I stopped my assault on the dirty DA and the train rolled to a stop. Strong arms circled my waist and I was pulled into Jake’s embrace while two local officers dragged Dicky off the floor and handcuffed him.

“You were right, Addie. There are life insurance policies on every single resident of the nursing home. The beneficiary is a corporation owned by none other than Dicky Jones.”

I stared up at him. “So he was killing off those poor people for the money?”

Jake nodded, stroking my face. “We have a lot more work to do, but he’ll be transported to Klamath, since he obviously owns the law enforcement here. The insurance company is now involved, too, and he won’t be able to bully his way out of their investigation.”

“All those poor old people.”

He pulled me close again. “Yeah, they’re being tested to find out what he was giving them, and we’ll make sure they’re taken care of. You and Dylan did a really good thing here, baby. Probably saved countless lives because of your nosy nature.”

I chuckled. “I like to refer to it as our sleuthing prowess, but whatever.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here. We’ll deal with Dicky and then we’re going home. You and I are gettin’ out of town for a couple of days.”

“We are?” I asked excitedly.

“Beach trip, baby. Just you and me. No trains, no cowboys, no crazy jobs.”

I squeezed him harder. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss me. “Love you, too, baby.”

Much to my irritation, Jake insisted on medical professionals checking me out to make sure I didn’t have a concussion, broken bones, or internal bleeding. I was cleared of any and all injuries, other than a couple of minor bruises, you know, because I’m a freakin’ badass (as I reminded him several times until he shut me up with his tongue down my throat...which I didn’t mind one bit).

The rest of the evening was spent in my car as my man drove me back to civilization, Asher and Dylan following behind. Since we didn’t get home until almost one in the morning, I insisted Jake stay, and having him in my bed (despite the PG rating) did not suck.

Now I just had to figure out how to make that a regular thing.